


These Little Moments

by MyckiCade



Series: Just Like Your Father [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drabble Collection, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, M/M, Mpreg, Snake Babies, Tumblr Ask Box Fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-23 20:30:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyckiCade/pseuds/MyckiCade
Summary: The little moments are often the most important. A growing family is bound to have one or two.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> These chapters are very short, soft little drabbles. As of now, they have all come from Tumblr Ask Box submissions. There will be no chronological order to these, but they will all fit into the 'Just Like Your Father' 'Verse.

Upon learning of his impending fatherhood, Aziraphale picks up a book - just one - on pregnancy. The symptoms all sound manageable, from an outsider's perspective. (Naive, perhaps, but he is nothing, if not optimistic). Anything he can do to help Crowley through, he will do.

Morning sickness? He will buy every last cracker, and bottle of ginger ale in London, if that is what it will take.

Exhaustion? There are new, extra-soft blankets due to be delivered, in two days. One of them is electric. The mother of his children will rest in nothing but comfort, if he will have any say of it.

Aches and pains? Well, he's been meaning to brush up on proper massage techniques, anyway.

When he gets to 'Increased Mood Swings', the angel chuckles. Just this side of God, Herself, _no one_ can work up an outburst, like his demon. And, these 'experts' claim they will get _worse? _Worse than terrified house plants? Worse than shattered glassware, and broken door hinges, and disintegrated colleagues? Oh, this section is a riot!

_Worse! _Ha!

Aziraphale has worked himself up to a full laugh, before he pauses... And, realizes just how well and truly _fucked_ he is. Terrified, he closes the book, not bothering with another. Some prophecies he just doesn't need to know.


	2. Chapter 2

"They need names, Crowley," Aziraphale all but preaches at the demon. Said demon rolls his eyes. A sermon, on repeat. Such a delight. "Proper addresses."

"They've got names, angel!" Crowley argues back, just to keep up the game. "Honestly, you make it sound like we call them 'Thing One' and 'Thing Two'."

Aziraphale's eyebrow twitches, jaw clenching. "'Heckle' and 'Jeckle'."

Here, Crowley just grins. "Yeah, I know. Great, right? Imagine the looks on all the faces, in the park! 'Jeckle, don't ride the ducks!', and, 'Heckle, get out of the pond, and, for Someone's sake, don't eat that bread!'" He chuckles. "Trouble incarnate, those two will be. You'll see."

For a moment, Aziraphale's jaw flaps open, and closed, as though prepared to take flight. Finally, he lets out a strangled huff, and stomps out of the room.

Crowley sighs, and leans back against the couch. Looks to the basket, beside him. Tries not to pout. Oh, Aziraphale will get over it, he knows that much. But, there's no way to make his angel understand. Not yet.

"You'll pick your own names," he declares softly, reaching into the basket to brush a thumb over each of his slumbering children, in-turn. "Who you are, who you will be, will be your own choice." Crowley smiles softly. "That's the freedom your father and I fought for, and I won't let it be taken from you."


	3. Chapter 3

There's a point where Aziraphale questions whether fairytales are good reading material for the children.

The story sounds quite standard, at first. A Princess, a Prince, and some shady goings-on, in a faraway Kingdom. (Sounds mildly familiar, right?). Four pair of eyes are settled on him, in a most endearing manner, as he adapts his voice for each character. The Princess seems sweet enough, and the King comes across as a loving father. A wholesome little story.

The Princess gets kidnapped, as tends to happen, on page seven.

That's where things go sour.

"Princess Amelie wept, in sadness," Aziraphale reads, pouting for emphasis. "How would she ever escape the dastardly clutches of the evil wizard? She was just a girl, after all, helpless against the evils of-_Helpless?"_ He blinks twice, breaking the spell of the story, momentarily. "Well, that seems a bit extreme." Clearing his throat, the angel tries to let it slide. "Helpless, against the evils of her father's greatest enemy. She would never be able to outsmart him. Her only hope, she knew, was the Prince of Ender-_Oh,_ what rubbish!" he exclaims, turning back to the first page. "Who _wrote_ this? Utter drivel!"

Someone shuffles, in the basket, and Aziraphale looks up. Pinky is staring back at him, expectant, obviously interested in _more._ He can't stand the thought.

"I'm sorry, my loves," he apologies, promptly flipping pages, to find another tale. "That was an entirely unacceptable depiction of women. Of _anyone,_ for that matter. Needing help hardly makes one helpless." Aziraphale huffs, just a bit. "I apologize, that you had to endure that."

He settles, instead, on a bit about a caterpillar, and a grasshopper, trying not to let the previous nonsense spoil the evening. Even long after the children have fallen asleep, Aziraphale has the urge to pen a strongly-worded letter. It's too bad, the author is probably long-gone.

_Helpless._

_Never be able._

As though young women need to hear such things. At such impressionable ages! Why, _anyone_ could fall into such a scrape, for starters. He can't help but remember all of his own close calls, over the years. All of the times Crowley has had to save him. He sighs a bit at the thought.

_Needing help hardly makes one helpless._

Aziraphale starts pre-reading their nightly adventures, after this. No story is going to put such notions into the minds of his little ones.


End file.
